Next to Her
by justcallmesmitty
Summary: "'If only she ... If only he ...' His mind wrestled with suppositions, finally giving way to an admission of his own role at every step." Future fic, dealing with fallout from 1x05, "A Chill in the Air." Francis/Mary.


**Author's Note**: For something completely different from my ongoing multi-chapter fic, I offer you a future/most likely AU piece that wouldn't leave me be until I wrote it.

**Context/Spoilers**: This is deeply entrenched in the fallout from 1x05, "A Chill in the Air."

**Disclaimer**: I do not own "Reign," nor do I own the rights to Mumford and Sons' "White Blank Page." They just happened to go together in my crazy head.

* * *

_Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, your heart, as well as your body?_

_And can you lie next to her and confess your love, your love, as well as your folly?_

Sleep didn't come to him. He lay awake into what he suspected were the early hours of the morning. He was certain he had heard the guards change, indicating it was at least halfway through the night. Those who partook in the day's revelry had long since retired to their beds, full of wine and exhausted by celebration.

But his mind would not still itself long enough for him to drift into unconsciousness.

_How did it come to this? _he asked himself.

He felt the bed settle to his left, though he needed no reminder of who lay there beside him.

_Can I truly just lay here next to her and refuse to give her my heart?_ he wondered. Scowling in the dark, he amended his question: _Can I lay here next to her and still keep it from her?_

What had begun as a misunderstanding and a simple need for forgiveness had quickly escalated. He confronted her. She readily admitted guilt and repented.

He had hardened his heart and in his refusal to forgive, nothing had been the same between them since that moment. They only talked when necessity required. He had kept his distance and his time carefully guarded. She had meekly sought to make amends several times, unashamedly accepting his coldness as the natural consequence of her regretted action, no matter how often and how unmercifully he sent her away.

_Faithfulness_, the word resounded in his head. _How ironic that, in the end, she was the one to remain fully faithful._

He kept his body's movements to a minimum, even though he wished to rise and pace the floor as sleep continued to evade him. He didn't wish to wake her.

His father and her family finally had settled upon a wedding date only days after he had ceased talking to her voluntarily. The engagement had been icy at best, with no talk of love, no dreaming together of what the future might hold, and no excitement whatsoever.

Duty. It all came down to duty.

_Is it still possible this could be more than duty?_ he wondered, cursing himself for his carelessness.

She had passed the time learning to assert herself in her full power, particularly when her mother appeared in the weeks before the wedding. He, in turn, had kept himself locked away with his father, forcing himself to acquire daily the skill required to rule with his head rather than with his heart.

It nearly had worked insofar as it kept him from her. Nearly, but not quite.

At every turn, she had proved herself still faithful, though the joy she previously found in life had long since seeped from her. _I have somehow managed to ruin her, haven't I?_

He allowed his eyes to glance over at her, asleep at his side. _My wife._

His mind reeled at the flood of emotion the admission brought with it. _She is my wife and I haven't spoken with her honestly in months_.

Taking the time needed to get up slowly, gently, he set his feet on the cool floor next to the bed. He wandered over to the couch next to the fire, quietly lowering himself onto it and releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding. His ears confirmed that she had not awakened with his exit.

_If only she ... If only he ..._ His mind wrestled with suppositions, finally giving way to an admission of his own role at every step.

_I held too carefully to my pride. I goaded her with Olivia. I refused to forgive her from the beginning and then, like a child, I balked at the need to tell her when I finally had._

He had done his duty by her and given her his body, as formality demanded. His father's lessons had been on display as he kept his heart hidden. He had seen the fear in her eyes, the sorrow. He had touched her for the first time in months and felt her tremble beneath him, and yet he had kept himself from her. _This was not how she wanted this to be. This was not what she deserved._

Shame crouched nearby, threatening in the darkness to overcome him.

He heard her stir in the quiet.

"Francis?" her voice carried softly across the room.

Raising himself, he made his way back toward their bed, his feet leading him to her side.

"Is everything all right?" she groggily asked. Her eyes struggled to open fully from sleep.

He sighed, kneeling beside her and moving his hand to rest upon her cheek before answering. "No, Mary. Everything is not all right."

She lay there, next to him, a bit disoriented but determined to engage with him. He caught her eyes, his flickering with shame and sorrow.

"I am so sorry, Mary." The shadows held enough light to reveal to her his pained expression. "I have been a fool."

"But it was all my fault!" she started. "If only I ... "

He cut her off.

"No, my love." He shook his head. "I forgave you and Bash long ago, but in my pride I never told you. You were faithful, always faithful, and gentle and kind. I have been a fool and kept my heart from you."

Her intake of breath was audible as he paused.

"I am so sorry, _my bride_. Please forgive me. I am yours, _only yours_. You deserved better. You deserved to know."

As his head dropped to the bed, he nearly missed her whisper, "I am yours, truly. _I always have been_. Of course I forgive you, _my husband_."

Her words registered, pushing aside the shame at the edges of his mind. Francis climbed back into the bed, shocked anew at Mary's closeness and the warmth of her small body. Gently, he kissed her lips and he felt himself relax as she responded. His determination to make this right for her, to make it _beautiful_, took over and was met at every moment by his willing bride.

Sleep came readily, peaceably, as the dawn prepared to break. He glanced at her as his eyes began to slip shut. She had already given way to her fatigue. "My wife," he murmured. Her lips curled in her sleep, forming a smile he had long missed.

_My beautiful wife._


End file.
